"estelle" poems
I go outside to escape my self
and the end and the inevitable
and I sit admiring the night sky
until the stars become the scattered
words I’m trying hard to understand
but seem completely unable to.
I look up into that dark blue night
and I wish it was the ocean.
I wish the world was a fading purple
sunset. I wish the world was
the moonstone blue of the sea.
I’m drowning in the night sky instead,
in all this vast intangible vagueness.
There’s no edge, no shore to the sky,
just stars and then stars and then stars.
I want to be on the shore again,
feeling alive, feeling maybe, just maybe
there’s a little hope in the waves that
have always been able to comfort me.
See, the sea is full of lonely moments,
losing moments, shipwrecked moments,
but it is also the place of liminal on the shore
moments, meeting moments, happy, maybe moments.
But here I am, sitting beneath the sky, not the sea.
I came out here to escape yet all I’ve found
is the inevitable in all its dark, vast, uncontainable glory.
I look away because I don’t want to see it.
I look away, because now it’s the end,
I’m not ready to leave.
I gather handfuls of cold to my chest
and take it all back inside with me.
I dream of the ocean. I long for the sea.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 4:55 PM UTC
Hier soir près de l'Opéra une jeune femme m'accoste et me demande si je n'ai pas cinquante centimes d'euros. Nous nous regardons. Je réponds: "non, désolée". Elle dit : "que Dieu vous bénisse". La jeune femme repart. Ses cheveux, sa voix, sa démarche. Cette jeune femme je la connais. Je n'ai pas pris le temps de le lui dire.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 11:57 AM UTC
On the first night of the Festivus All grievances were aired
But after a few cups of *** our feelings were repaired
The Festivus pole shone brightly, illumined by a single light.
The alcohol flowed freely, this would be no silent night.
Cousin Jerry in the corner was caught snogging with Elaine.
George’s girl was laughing as he struggled to explain
The cause of her disappointment (shrinkage was to blame).
Cosmo Kramer danced around the pole, making spirits bright.
Newman spilled the bowl of punch,( he never was too bright).
Frank and Estelle were doing well and feeling little pain.
She pinned him in the feat of strength, not that he complained.
When the meal was over and the holiday was done
They all made their donations to support the Human fund.
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
So do not throw your pearls before swine,
Instead in the sand go and draw your line.
For this love you have is rare dear girl,
A guide and blessing in the name of Estelle.
I sat and woke to see it all clear,
A stage I was seeking, no longer to fear.
For I've spent too long wasting precious time,
Never again will I throw pearls before swine.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 1:58 PM UTC
*let me tell you now just how i saw you:
you wooed the world with your sublime figure
accentuated by that supreme walk of art in life
that became you so well in love without strife
i saw and felt the beauty reposed in you
but how futile and hapless now
this belated lyric to you
you must have come from a constellation of stars
your name should have been stella or estelle
queen of the skies who made earth her chosen abode
and walked upon it like a storybook queen
you spoke like a fabulous heartthrob
and had us transfixed like pilgrims in worship
your enigmatic gaze was magnetic
wafting but unseen incense oozed from your nostrils
as milk and honey danced upon your lips
later to nourish my thoughts and limbs
in the solitude of early evening as venus began to rise
in truth you were a goddess on sabbatical
and your fabled home is in the cosmic mists of time
where i hunger to be a devoted acolyte in your service
forever chanting the treasured words: it is well*
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC
I want you as mine
your impetus- why not I?
make me, love- your prize
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 7:07 AM UTC
Seeing you as mine
my disclosure- though I try
otherwise- a lie
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 7:09 AM UTC
The Witch of Estelle
Found her her vision.
for the Witch of Estelle found her His vision.
His vision of found
In this world for His sound.
For the Witch of Estelle, found her His Vision.
On 13th September
A fires quaint ember
Spoke what’s not spoken,
yet membered.
A mind for He sought,
with furnace for thought,
wisdom and secrets,
crafts and of demons.
All left unspoken,
yet remembered.
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 10:11 PM UTC
Estelle (Sestina)
I look out at the universe tonight,
High into a lonely dark sky;
Yet a single star stays shining bright,
Burning with an eternal flame.
An entire night sky, one twinkle of light;
I think she deserves a name.
Worthy of a star, is there such a name?
Not one I will find tonight.
I watch her glow until morning light
Till the sun takes over a blue sky.
Yet nothing could put out her flame;
She lives in my soul, eternally bright.
There is no other that can burn so bright.
I wish she could know my name.
In my amazement, jealousy burns like a flame.
She alone rules the sky tonight.
Will I ever rule a sky?
She seems to laugh, that twinkle of light.
Grant me this wish; be my guiding light.
Lead me to the passion to make my life bright,
A love that’s as deep as your endless sky.
That the world knows my name,
My only wish tonight;
Cast all other dreams to unending flame.
I will light a match and fan my dream’s flame,
Heart filled with hope till morning light,
The smile on her face I can feel tonight.
Oh dear star that shines down so bright,
Will you ever know my name?
Still she is silent in her moonlit sky.
How many wishes shall I place in the sky?
Will you silence me with a ball of flame?
Grant my wish: the world to know my name.
Please hear my words or I will have no light.
I can see you still shining bright.
My wishes are yours to answer tonight.
Estelle shall be the name of my twinkle of light,
Her flame burning always so bright.
I send one wish to the sky before I sleep tonight.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 7:46 PM UTC
Montmartre
The harlot on the hill
Her perfume
of garlic and Gaulloises
sour in the Sunday afternoon.
~
On the Rue Laitiere
A promenade of bustles
where, from under lace parasols
Working girls glances
Survey the field.
~
In the Moulin de la Galette
The thin man in a hurry
Eager at the canvass
Licks brush on palette
and gives Estelle her eyes.
~
From a third story window
Lissette leans on her elbows
Smiles at the sunlight
Sighs with the memory
of yesterday’s lover.
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 1:06 PM UTC
Now she's gone,
Hopefully, forever,
Love her, again, NEVER!
My turn, to have some fun.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 4:04 AM UTC
Mom,mommy,mother
a word and person of sweet attachment
Missed more than any other
More precious than any parchment
Let us not take mothers for granted
So that when they finally pass away
We will remember what can't be recanted
May God above lift up our spirits today
Remembering Estelle a year since
You went to your final resting place
With warm love and beauty sensed
A harder loss than ever faced
May God bless you and keep you
With him as well as in our hearts
Where you left flowers and nature true
Your poems of honestly, love with heart
Give quiet witness to God anew.
Jim Goulet
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
They told me to write again
I said I cannot
The pain would be to great
It is only an account of suffering
They told me to write different
Write about something pleasant
They love a cheesy romance
Happy ending and all
I cannot write of joy
Suffering consumes my heart
Pain flows through my veins
And stains paper with true romance
Like Pip and Estelle
I love a black heart
I am never to be rewarded
With the love of my love
Like Jay and Daisy
My love chose another
My heart ripped from my chest
I am left for dead
True love knows little joy
Happiness is brief
Suffering is great
Pain is indefinite
Because true love is to suffer
On another’s account
To love despite suffering
To love no matter what
Star-crossed lovers have little hope
But I will continue to write
Only of our suffering love
My muse is not lost
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC